You Won't Get Rid of Me Without a Fight
by hurricanecaroline
Summary: He said she wouldn't get rid of him without a fight. He promised her that if things went south with them, he wouldn't just walk out the door. Sam Swarek is not one to break his promises. Now that we're past the finale, I get to take the wheel! Sorry Tassie Cameron, everything is McSwarek and nothing hurts!
1. Chapter 1

If you're anything like me, you're anxiously awaiting the season finale and dreading the rumored 'cliffhanger'. To alleviate some of the McSwarek angst, I decided to write a fic! This is basically how _I_ want the season to end (and possibly beyond), but knowing the writers I'm sure it will end up with less butterflies and rainbows. I'm planning to write in what happens in the next two episodes, and then maybe more post-finale. Set immediately after 3x10.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

Chapter 1

Tick.

He thrashed side to side, trying to find a comfortable position. He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. One deep breath. Another. He could hear himself breathing. He tried to slow down his breaths, but he couldn't block out the sound of each one. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Again and again. Staring at the ceiling, he counted sheep. He tried to envision them jumping over a fence. He let out a groan, feeling exhausted and stupid. Exhausted, yet sleep would not come. It was like trying to sleep with the lights on. He rolled over. Flipped his pillow over. Took his socks off. He tried to completely clear his mind, to allow his thoughts to melt away from the bustling canvas in his brain. The canvas was blank for a split-second, until dark, wavy brown hair appeared. A red plaid shirt. Jeans. That watch she never took off. His keys flying towards him. The stoic look on her face. The drive and purpose in her stride, skillfully masking the hurt and the sadness. The soft glow of his alarm clock stared up at him. 3:14 a.m.

Tock.

_He flipped his pillow over for the third time, staring at the ceiling. He blinked hard, rubbing his hand along his jaw. He turned towards the window, his back to the door of the bathroom. He heard the shower water turn off. He shut his eyes hard, willing his brain to turn off. To give him a break. _

"_Show me your hands." Nothing. _

"_Drop your weapon, now!" Still nothing. He could hear Andy's nervous breathing beside him, her weapon drawn parallel to his. _

"_Raise your weapon another inch…' he started…_

_BANG, BANG! He fired. The man dropped to the ground. Andy knelt beside him, fingers pressed deep into his carotid artery. Sam stood above her, motionless, staring as the blood engulfed the pale concrete behind the suspect's chest. It would never be cleaned. He'd walked past former crime scenes on his day off before. In front of the grocery store, on 166__th__ street, next to the bank downtown. The faded brown spots on the sidewalk had always haunted him. People walked over them, pushed strollers past them, stood waiting for busses on them; completely oblivious to the lives that had been lost, the lives that had been ruined and wrought by guilt in that very spot. He couldn't look at them. _

"_Sam" she questioned, staring up at him. She shook her head, he put his weapon away. He was gone._

"_Sam…"_

_"Sam!" _

"_Wh-!" he rolled over, startled. _

"_Sorry." he gulped, snapping out of his flashback of that morning. He shook his head vigorously, blinking to shake the drowsiness from his eyes. He noticed that she was wrapped in one of his towels, having just gotten out of the shower. He wondered how long she'd been calling him._

"_Glad you found… everything." He gestured awkwardly to the towel._

"_Sam, I've… been over before." She stated blankly, waiting for him to snap out of his trance._

"_Right. I mean, I don't know." He paused, rolling to his back and staring at the ceiling. "What a day" he yawned, shutting his eyes. She turned away from him and dropped her towel, pulling one of his Academy shirts from his dresser and over her head. Most nights she slept over, her changing into his clothes was a sight he shamelessly feasted his eyes on. She turned around to see him wide-awake, still staring at the ceiling._

"_He was going to shoot." She consoled him futilely. _

"_Yeah… I know." He responded, unconvinced at his own words._

_"He had nothing to lose. No family, no friends, nothing. He knew it was him, we knew it was him; it was only a matter of time. Suicide by cop, Sam."_

"_Doesn't make it any easier," he snapped._

"_I know," she sighed, understanding what he was feeling. "I know." _

_She turned his bedside lamp off, the room now illuminated only by his alarm clock. Crawling under the sheets next to him, she noticed his fists, clenched tightly together on his chest. She nestled in next to him, uncurling his fist and gently tugging at his arm. He rolled onto his side, chest flush against her back. He entwined their legs, wanting to take in every inch of her soft, warm skin. She took his newly unclenched hand and held it tightly against her chest, entwining his hand with both of hers. His arms served as a protective cage around her. Her barrier from the rest of the world. Inside them, she was safe. Inside them, she was beautiful. Inside them, she could do anything._

_He felt her heart beating against his chest. His rough, muscular body enveloped her soft, small figure. He smelled the shampoo in her hair. He could feel the goosebumps on his arm every time she gently exhaled against his skin. With her in his arms, the whole world was clear. He knew what was important. He'd taken a life that day, to protect this one. He felt her warmth and he knew that she was still there. That she'd always be there. With her in his arms, anything was possible. Even sleep. _

_So sleep he did._

Tick.

He looked in the mirror. He looked like _hell. _He rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to flatten it against his head. Nothing. He bent over, splashing cold water over his face. Nothing. He blinked hard. Maybe it was the bags under his eyes? Or maybe it was the bags under the bags under his eyes. Or maybe… Whatever. He slammed the bathroom door and stumbled towards his dresser, pulling on a black shirt and his darkest jeans. It was just that kind of day. He slammed the door to his bedroom, but his hand lingered in the doorway for just too long.

"Fuck!" He didn't usually resort to swearing, especially alone in his own house, but… It was just that kind of day. He looked down at his hand, praying the force of his anger against the door hadn't broken the skin. Grabbing a bag of frozen peas that had been in his freezer since Sarah brought her kids over, he gingerly iced his throbbing hand. Picking up the coffee pot with his good hand, he poured a full mug to go. He dropped the bag of peas while trying to focus on the mug, and the evidently insufficient clip holding the bag shut broke free.

"Shit!" He growled, noticing the coffee spilling over the top of the mug. He tossed the coffee pot in the sink, bending down to clean up the peas. Ignoring the dull ache in his palm, his phone diligently reminded him that he was late for work. He remembered when she had set that alarm on his phone, a daily warning that they were under no circumstances going to show up to parade late, _together_. He didn't know how to work his phone's alarm, so now it served as a daily reminder that there was no chance _in hell_ they'd be showing up late together. He grabbed the mug, opting for black coffee this morning. It was definitely_ that_ kind of morning. He locked his door, pulling it shut behind him and climbing ungracefully into his truck. Realizing his jacket was still inside; he looked out at the unforgiving Toronto winter and rolled his eyes, disgusted at his own ineptitude. For a decade he'd lived on his own, and now after just three weeks without her he was a complete disaster.

Tock.

_He awoke not to a sight, not to a sound, but to a smell. A familiar smell. A good smell. A smell that meant he was going to have a good morning. He slowly pried his eyes open, noticing the mug on his bedside table. He inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma that vaporized from the top. He slowly sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. Taking a deep, throat-singeing gulp from the mug, he smiled. Cream, no sugar. Perfect. Just like his barista. Hearing a familiar Hall and Oates song coming from the kitchen, he quietly opened the door, sneaking in unnoticed. He placed his mug down on the counter. She was in a sports bra and his pajama pants, dancing through the kitchen while she searched for his cereal. When she stood on her tiptoes to reach for a bowl, he placed both hand on her hips and pressed his body against hers. _

"_You-ooh, you make my dreams come true!" He sang shamelessly to the song in the background, dimples digging into his cheeks. She rotated in his grasp, facing him. _

"_Good morning…" she smiled playfully, steadying his face with her hands before pecking a kiss to his lips. He smiled back at her._

"_It is." He nodded sincerely. His hands still firmly planted on her hips, she rotated again to finish making her cereal. Reaching down to grab the box from the cabinet, she playfully grinded to the music against him, a taunting look in her eye when she glanced back to see his reaction. He groaned._

"_I need to take a shower," he stated, trying to ignore her temptation. One of her eyebrows shot up suggestively. _

"_We have half an hour…" she remarked matter-of-factly, shrugging when she looked at the clock on the wall. He gave in, wrapping an arm around her waist and smothering kisses down her neck. They stumbled clumsily towards the bathroom, his mouth never leaving her skin. Until recently, he'd hated getting up to go to work. He'd never smiled. He'd been serious, angry, bitter Sam Swarek, growling and grumbling until he'd had at least a cup of coffee. This morning, he was smiling ear to ear. _

_It was just that kind of morning. _

Tick.

Tossing his bag into the backseat, he grumbled at the pain surging through his hand. He slammed the door to the cruiser, ignoring his previous experience with slamming doors. He glared at Epstein and Diaz who were getting into the car next to him, making a bit too much noise for his early-morning tolerance. He opened the driver's side door and sat down heavily, rolling his head around, his neck stiff after a horrible night's sleep. Putting the car in reverse, he pulled out of the station parking lot violently, taking out his anger on his break pads. As he sped away from 15, it hit him. It usually did around this time every day. He was just really, really _sad_. There was something missing. _Someone _missing. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him, swallowing hard. Sam Swarek wasn't a super emotional guy, but something about this void made him sadder than he'd ever been in his life. Certainly not enough to cry, but the look in her eyes when they passed each other made his throat tighten. He didn't know why he did it, why he simply got in his truck that night. Why he broke his promise. Why he gave up the one thing he'd wanted more than anything. Why _he _was the one to do it. That was the kicker- _he_ was the one who let _her _go. He _made_ her go. The knot in his chest tightened just thinking about it.

The truth was- and he'd never admit this to anyone- he _needed _her. He needed to get her back.

* * *

Well, give me a shout if you have any suggestions, want me to keep going, or hate it! I have some ideas post-finale, so maybe I'll keep going with this for a while in the meantime.


	2. Chapter 2

Here's something I ask for right now: **PLEASE** let me know what you think of this reality/flashback style. I can't think of another way to write Season 3 McSwarek and have it still be mushy (with their fighting and all), and God knows I like mushy. If you're starting to get tired of it, tell me! I plan to drop it after the finale, unless you want it gone sooner. Anyway, enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

"Swarek, Shaw!" Startled, Oliver looked up from his coffee to see Frank's face behind him.

"Frank! Hey brother. Yeah we were just… uhh… finishing up some paperwork." He nodded unconvincingly, subtly minimizing the video of a cat riding a vacuum cleaner that was playing on his computer. Sam watched in amusement as Frank rolled his eyes, ignoring his fib.

"I'm going to go ahead and add some booking paperwork to _this_," he patted the pile of neglected work on Oliver's desk, "unless you two are busy, that is."

"No, no, no… yeah. We're not exactly busy." Olive sheepishly admitted.

"Thanks you two. We had a situation in booking today. The rookies are indefinitely being interviewed by Mills, so someone's gotta handle this while I deal with that." He looked annoyed.

"Mills?" Sam looked up, alarmed, hoping it had nothing to do with Andy.

"There was an... incident. Two shot. One dead." Frank nodded at the look of shock on Sam's face.

"Wha-" Sam began, trying to unravel the tornado that was wreaking havoc in his brain.

"It's Mills. I gotta take this." Frank opened his phone. "Finish this!" He mouthed, pointing to Olvier's new paperwork and shooting him a glare. Oliver sat up straight and puffed out his chest, saluting Frank.

"Aye aye." He barked as Frank walked away, rolling his eyes.

Sam looked like he was about to be sick.

"Ollie, I gotta…" he started.

"You go." Oliver finished. "Find out what happened." He didn't mention the mountain of paperwork that lay in front of them.

"Thank you. I… Thank you." His gratitude was apparent, but so was his fear. He jumped from his desk, in search of the nearest administrator.

"Excuse me…"

"Just… just one minute." The distracted secretary held up a finger.

"What happened in booking?" He paused, watching as she flipped to the next page of the document she was reading.

"Can someone tell me what's going on in booking?" He raised his arms above his head, yelling to the rest of the room. He was getting worked up. An officer looked up from his desk long enough to give him an answer.

"Someone didn't do a pat down… I don't know. Somehow a gun ended up in booking. Dude shot his cellmate in the arm before SRU took him down. And now someone's badge is on the line. _Mills_ is here." Sam nodded in thanks, returning to his desk with a ghastly look on his face. Oliver put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sammy… everything good?"

"Yeah." Sam gulped, "everything's fine. Someone's losing their badge." He said gravely.

"Do you want to go… you know, see what's up with… everyone?" Oliver danced around the name; unsure of what Sam was thinking.

"I should just stay away from… all that." He responded, wishing he could help.

"Yeah." Oliver nodded, "you're right. Probably a good idea." Oliver grabbed them both coffee, returning to find Sam doing paperwork faster than he'd ever seen.

"Done." Oliver looked at his watch. "How did you…" he flipped through the paperwork. Every date, every signature.

"Wow. Alright, you go. Go. I'll get this back to Frank."

He nearly jogged to the locker room, eyes locked on the door in front of him.

It couldn't be her. He was his training officer, he'd taught her better than that. But more importantly, this couldn't be him. For the split second that he didn't know if she was okay, if she was _alive_, he nearly lost it. His last words- _their_ last words- couldn't be him asking for his keys back. Their job was dangerous, but a job that they both loved. If something were to happen to either of them, the other had to know. That he loved her. That she loved him. As much as he hated thinking about it, those had to be their last words. Not that he needed his keys back because it was his only other set.

He took a deep breath and unbuttoned his uniform, putting it in his locker slowly. He needed to find her. He needed to tell her. With Mills in the picture, he knew she'd had a stressful day. He needed to give her his keys and sit in the passenger seat of his car watching her breathe, taking her in, assuring himself that she was there. They would go home, they'd talk. They talk about everything. He'd apologize. He'd explain himself. He'd give her a hug that she'd never forget. He'd tell her how he felt. She'd understand. But first- he needed to _talk_ to her.

He saw her go into Callaghan's office. Wonderful- he'd wait outside. He got her attention when she came out.

"Hey." Great start, Sam. Real smooth.

"Hey. What are you still doing here?" She asked, feigning interest.

He gulped. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he answered honestly. She pursed her lips and walked out ahead of him.

"That's not your job anymore." She replied curtly.

He took her hint and stopped walking, nearly smiling. He was such an idiot. He watched her leave, increasing purpose in each step. What had he done? Was she gone? Had she moved on? Had he driven her away past the point of no return? A month ago he woke up with her curled in his arms. A month ago he kissed her in an interview room. A month ago, they held hands as they left together.

* * *

_A month ago…_

"_Hey…" she paused, awaiting his reaction. Knowing full well he'd had a horrible day, she didn't want to smother him. He stared hard at her and, she began to worry that he wanted to be left alone. He quickly glanced around, checking that the hallway was empty._

"_Sam, I'm sorry, I can just-"Her words were cut off by a bear hug, something that had never happened to her before. Especially with him. Or at work. After a second of shock, she reciprocated, holding him tight against her. After what felt like an eternity, he finally let go._

_"Thank you." He smiled at her, "I needed that." He took a deep breath, exhaling hard. The bags under his eyes were deep; she could tell he was stressed. _

"_I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault." She didn't want to say it, to talk about the girl who they didn't find until it was too late. She noticed that the girls were especially tough on him. She guessed it was because of his sister._

"_I know." He gulped. _

_He couldn't help but not believe himself. He reached down and grabbed her hand, not letting go until they had reached his truck. Something about holding her hand made it all better. He couldn't tell what, but he knew he needed it. Which was why once they were in his truck, he held it while she drove, and again, he felt instantly better. Once they'd gotten to his place, he had calmed down. He was laughing more. She could feel his demeanor soften. He was cracking bad jokes and smiling when she looked at him. _

"_You have any food?" She called out from his kitchen while he locked the door._

"_Yeah, I have coffee, beer, and ice cubes." He shouted back, chuckling at his own predicament._

"_Sam…" she whined, unhappy at the truth in his words as she opened the fridge. "This is not some cool cop bachelor pad anymore. I need to be fed!" _

"_Top drawer next to the stove!" He called back. Intrigued, she opened the drawer to discover takeout menus from every restaurant within a ten mile radius of his house._

_"Okay," she laughed, "this will work. Pizza?" She yelled, realizing immediately after that he was standing behind her._

"_Sounds great," he murmured in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist._

"_Sam!" She squealed playfully. "Stop! I'm hungry."_

"_Me too…" he continued, returning his arms to their perch above her hips. _

"_We are not doing… this! Not until I have been fed. Food. Fed food. Not until I have been fed food." She concluded, picking up his phone and calling the pizza place. _

"_Fine…" he sulked away, disappointed at his rejection. He opened two beers and sat down on the couch, feet heavily rested on the coffee table._

"_Are we not doing this either?" he asked, pointing to the spot next to him on the couch._

"_We can do this." She smiled, snuggling up under his eagerly awaiting arm and grabbing her beer. _

"_Thank you," she held up the beer._

"_Thank you…" he paused. "For this." He smiled sincerely. She told him about her day riding with Dov, hoping to keep the mood light. The doorbell rang, and she sprung up to greet the much-needed sustenance that awaited her. They dug in, finishing the entire pizza in fifteen minutes flat._

"_Wow. You weren't kidding!" he teased her, commenting on how much she'd eaten._

"_Hey!" She objected, "You had more than me!"_

"_I know." He laughed, putting their plates in the dishwasher. "So…"_

"_So…" She repeated, raising one of her eyebrows. Before she could say anything else, his lips were crushing hers, the anticipation of the evening released in a stream of kisses smothering her neck and mouth. She tried to keep up, and before she knew it she was in the air, now a full head taller than him, legs wrapped around waist. He tilted his head up to her, mouth meeting once again._

_"Sam…" she moaned, relishing his gentler, deeper kisses. He smiled against her mouth, knowing she was enjoying it as much as he was._

_They both slept soundly that night._

* * *

He drove out of the lot, fast.

"_That's not your job anymore."_ It wasn't his job anymore. He cared now, possibly more than ever before. He wanted to see her, to talk to her, to touch her, to tell her it was going to be okay, to hold her in his arms and protect her from the world. He wanted to hear about her interview with Mills. To comfort her. He couldn't even be there for her professionally anymore; the last thing she wanted was to ride with him. He wanted to be there for her, somehow.

But that wasn't his job anymore. Suddenly he felt warm liquid in his hand. He needed to cut his nails. Every time he thought of Andy, of how he let her down, he dug his nails a little deeper into his skin. Their conversation in the hallway had literally and figuratively been the breaking point. Tonight, he needed her, and there was absolutely no way she would talk to him. He felt lost.

And then it hit him- he was lost. No, really, he was _lost_. He looked around, trying to identify the wrong turn he took on the way to the Penny, a route he'd drive hundreds of times. Finding a street sign, he realized he'd never taken a wrong turn, he simply forgot to turn at all. He wondered if he'd stopped at stop signs. He pulled over, taking a deep breath. The knot in his chest tightened, and his throat felt like it was closing. He simply could not function without her. He couldn't even drive. Taking another deep breath to compose himself, he drove to the Penny and had a drink alone. He tried to keep his eyes away from the table where she sat with Dov, Traci, and Nick. He saw the somber looks on their faces, phones sitting on the table. Gail's entrance and the reaction it elicited from her friends told him everything. He felt bad for Peck, getting thrown under the bus the way he was sure she was, but she was a Peck. She'd get out of it. He was just glad it wasn't Andy. He couldn't stare, he reminded himself. No more stolen glances, no more secret winks.

"_That's not your job anymore."_

He finished his drink at put a five on the bar, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, alone. He turned to look at her one last time, and she looked up from her drink, locking eyes with him for a split second. She looked down at her drink, shaking her head. The sadness in her eyes absolutely broke his heart.

He got back in his truck, speeding home. Door open. Coat hung. Keys dropped. Shirt off. Beer open.

He sat down heavily on the couch, dropping his legs on the coffee table in front of him. He put his arm on the couch behind him. He looked at the void in the couch next to him. The space under his arm where her shoulders fit perfectly. The absence of her warmth pressed against his side. The silence usually filled with her laughter. The spot on his thigh where she liked to rest her hand. The absence of her weight leaned against her side. How he happily supported her tired frame. How he happily supported her.

"_That's not your job anymore."_ Her words haunted him. What she didn't understand was that it wasn't a job, it was an honor. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

He wished he knew how to tell her that. He wished she could read his mind.

Beer finished. Shower. T-shirt on. Shorts. Bed. He went through the motions like a zombie, trying to keep his mind clear. Clear of her.

But she was infectious. He couldn't get her out of his head. He couldn't sleep that night.

* * *

I hate writing this sad McSwarek! Hopefully the finale gives us something good. Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

So, I for one was incredibly disappointed with the finale. I think the writers are just asking a little too much of us, you know by doing the exact opposite of what EVERYONE wants and then ending the season. Well, I have faith in McSwarek regardless! So this is a flashback-less chapter, it's basically my interpretation of the finale. I'm doing my best to stay true to the show, but obviously I'm going to get them back together now that we're no longer at the mercy of what the writers do. This is going to be a sad chapter, but don't worry! I'm going to try to update soon and it's going to get GREAT!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.**

* * *

He shook his head, "I wish I was more like you."

It was true. The day she said it, the day she told him how she felt, that was the day that opened his eyes. She was so confident, so open, and so happy. She didn't hide what she thought, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. Being honest, telling people how she felt, it all made her a genuinely happy person, and he knew it was why she had such a magnetic personality.

"What are you-"

"I wish you were in my head," he continued, "I wish you could read my mind."

The walls he'd built up to keep people out, to keep people from seeing what was underneath, they melted away around her. Yet somehow, she didn't know how strongly he felt. He let his guard down, sure, but not enough. She couldn't see it. His behavior off the job wasn't appreciably different than on the job. He was less controlling, yes, a little bit sweeter, sure, but never completely open with her. He was never Sam. There was always just a little bit of Swarek still lingering behind his eyes.

A single tear cascaded down her cheek.

"What are you talking about?" She responded; obviously annoyed at his ambiguity. He looked at her. Studied her. He stared into her deep, brown doe-eyes. Even with a grenade in her hand and anger in her heart, her eyes still held promise and trust. Those eyes were all that mattered to him right now.

He paused. He reconsidered it.

She was holding a bomb.

Maybe this wasn't the time.

"I love you, Andy." It slipped out. He couldn't keep it in any longer. She needed to know.

She could see the absolute terror in his eyes, and she knew it had little to do with the grenade in her hand.

"I do." He gulped.

Another tear followed suit, tracing the path of the last.

"Sam," she looked into his eyes, confused as ever, "I'm holding a _bomb._"

* * *

"You were brave back there…" he started, testing the waters as he sat slumped next to her locker. He rubbed his hands together, staring at the floor gravely.

"No." She cut in quickly, "Katie was brave." The waters were icy cold, he concluded.

"Andy," he chose his next words carefully, "what I said to you…" he tried to finish his thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words didn't want to come. There was a long pause.

"It's okay. Heat of the moment. I get it." She put her phone in her pocket, rushing to get out of that locker room. She had the complete wrong impression. He couldn't let her think that, that he'd said it on a whim. He stupidly didn't say it back to her, he stupidly broke up with her, and then he said it at a stupid time. He'd wanted to say it for months, but he didn't. Stupid Sam really needed to go.

"No." He took a deep breath. "I meant it." He said honestly, standing up to face her. All of a sudden, looking into her eyes, he was terrified. Terrified that she had moved on. Terrified of opening up. Terrified she didn't feel it too. Terrified of rejection. So he did the only thing he knew how to do when he felt vulnerable. He let stupid Sam take over.

"It's true. There are 206 bones in the human body, I saw it on Grey's Anatomy." He laughed, raising his arms as she turned to grab her bag.

Stupid Sam was back.

_She didn't know how she felt about Sam's sudden 180. He went from breaking his promise and completely ignoring her for weeks to telling her he loved her, and all but begging for her forgiveness. _

"_Andy," she knew what he was going to say. "What I said to you…" She heard him pause. He wasn't going to say it again. He'd said it on a whim in the first place. She'd been holding a bomb, neither of them was thinking clearly. _

"_It's okay." She finished for him. "Heat of the moment. I get it." She was giving him an out. A get out of jail free card. She didn't want him to feel obligated to say it again, it had felt forced in the first place. Now she understood where he was._

_She'd thought from day one that Sam was endgame materiel. The way she felt around him, the way he protected her, showing how he felt without ever having to say it; she loved everything about him and was willing to fight for him. But this? This was out of character. For two years, he'd been the stable one. Despite Luke, Jo, her mother, he'd always been steady. He'd been her rock. That night outside the Penny, that was the night she started thinking that she'd never really known him at all. That the only time he'd fight for her was when she wasn't his. She couldn't forgive him for breaking the one promise he'd made to her. When she returned from suspension, they took it slow. She let him set the pace; she didn't try to push him. She'd never asked anything of him except that- not to walk out the door without a fight. And that was the one thing he didn't do. Fight._

"_No." Now he was fighting. A good sign. She listened. "I meant it." _

_She looked at him, curious. The relentless optimist within her showed and she gave him a chance. To explain himself. She knew it wouldn't be right, that she'd be selling herself short, but all she wanted was to hear him say it. That he loved her. That he'd fight for her. _

"_It's true. There are 206 bones in the human body, I saw it on Grey's Anatomy."_

_Strike three. _

_She bit her bottom lip, wondering how she could be so stupid. He had never opened up, never once told her how he felt about her. Why should she expect anything else from him now? It literally took a life-or-death encounter to force him to tell her how he felt. He was just as emotionally immature as before. Exasperated, she grabbed her bag, making a beeline for the door. She was finished. She'd had an emotionally overwhelming day, and boyfriends were supposed to make it better, not do… this. She was finished. _

"_I'm going home." She honestly wished that he'd just give up. He'd shown her what he was just a second ago. He had no chances left. _

"_Come on!" He chased after her, nearly yelling. "McNally!" She turned around, getting annoyed at the scene he was making. _

"_You don't get to do this anymore, okay? I don't care if you're serious, I don't care if you're joking." Trying to avoid making an even bigger scene, she lowered her voice, nearly hissing at him. "I don't care anymore." She shrugged, indicating her indifference. _

"_Just leave me alone." She finished, turning away from him to walk out the door._

"I don't care anymore." He saw the conviction in her eyes, shrugging him off. "Just leave me alone." She started for the door. He was most certainly _not _letting this happen again. He promised her he wouldn't walk out without a fight. Better late than never.

"No. I'm not going to leave you alone." He followed her through the door, ignoring his colleagues completely.

"I screwed up, okay? Things got tough and I walked away. I thought I was doing the right thing!" As complicated as it was, he did think he was doing the right thing. Seeing her now made him realize how wrong he was.

"Do you have any idea what you put me through?" She was finally fighting back. He wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear her say how angry she was, so he could understand. Promise her it would never happen again. That he would learn from his mistakes.

She was whispering, trying to avoid getting the attention of their coworkers. "You broke up with me in a parking lot and for _six weeks _I tried to contact you. You didn't answer one of my calls!" "Andy…" He needed a chance to explain. A chance to do something.

"No!"

"Andy, I'm…"

"Sam, it's too late!" She shrugged, turning to walk away for the second time. "I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore." He followed her again. This was the time. No jokes, no stupid Sam. He was going to spill his dreams. The things he imagined in his head, the things he wanted for them. The future he had so royally screwed up.

"You don't have to do anything, okay? You don't have to do anything!" He was all but begging at this point. "I'm gonna do it all!" He pleaded, "I'm gonna do everything, okay? I'm going to show you, every single day, until you say yes. I'm gonna make you dinner, I'm gonna take out your garbage, I'm gonna walk your dog." He knew she didn't have a dog, but he couldn't think of another household chore.

"I don't have a dog." She shrugged; as if that was the reason she couldn't say yes.

"Then let's get a dog." He continued relentlessly, "Labradoodle, mutt from the pound, I don't care. Let's bring him home and call him Boo. Boo Radley. I've always loved that for a dog."

"Boo Radley." She repeated, chuckling under her breath. She stared at the floor, her smile disappearing. He took a breath, knowing they couldn't just jump from this to that. He needed a middle step.

"Okay, look. Can we just start with a drink? Just a drink. Please. Andy. Just give me a chance."  
She shrugged. Not a good sign. He pressed on. "I'll be at the Penny."

He walked away, hoping his brutal honesty would convince her. That she too was picturing them curled up on the couch with Boo ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. He'd all but gotten on his hands and knees and begged. Now the ball was in her court.

He stared into the tequila in front of him as if it held the answer. She wasn't there. She hadn't come. Every time the door opened, his head whipped around with just an ounce of hope, and every time he was disappointed.

The Penny wasn't a commitment. It was just a drink. It didn't mean she was saying yes, it didn't have to mean anything.  
Yet she still didn't come.

"_Sam, it's too late"_

He kept replaying her responses in his head. Searching for a word, a reply, something that meant he had a chance. That the door hadn't shut completely. Nothing.

He wouldn't accept that. Too many times in his life he'd sat back and just let it happen. He hadn't fought back; he'd just taken the punches and carried on.

Not this time. This wasn't a little thing, this was everything. This was Andy. From the first day they were partnered up, he knew. Something was special about this girl. Her honesty, her openness, her ability to see the good in people, to love people indiscriminately, her fire and passion for the things she loved. She challenged him. She kept him on his toes. She made him a better person. And the truth was, he needed her. He couldn't exist in a world where she did but not with him. The last few months, though he was still closed off, had been some of the best of his life. And if he had a chance to do it again, he'd do it so, so much better. This was _Andy_.

_She wondered how long he'd been sitting at the Penny. Would he stay all night, waiting for her? She would have gone. Maybe it wouldn't have been the right thing to do, maybe her mom wouldn't approve, but she would have gone. _

"_I'm gonna show you, every day, until you say yes."_

_Those were the words she wanted to hear four months ago. Those were the words she would have liked to hear a week after he broke her heart. But six weeks? Six weeks was a long, long time to be completely ignored by the man she loved._

_"Just give me a chance."_

_She kept replaying those words in her head, and each time they broke her heart. She knew he was hurting after Jerry, should she give him a pass? Just this once? Somehow or other they'd end up together. She didn't believe in soul mates, but Sam had changed the game for her. She couldn't just date people now, because she knew nobody would live up to him. But he'd broken his promise, and her heart. He needed to know that this wasn't a little mistake that he could just talk his way out of. _

_And then Luke came along. _

_Sam was still the same person, she told herself. He wasn't going to change. She couldn't be that girl who can't get over that guy who can't grow up._

* * *

I know, I know. It's sad. Keep faith!


End file.
